


A bundle of brown and blue

by Captain_Mercurian



Series: So what do I do with this? [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence sweeps Newt off his feet, First Meeting, I might make a series out of this, M/M, Newt is an adorable bundle of brown and blue and awkwardness, Pre-Slash, The Niffler escaped again, at least his leaflets do, damn they're slippery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Mercurian/pseuds/Captain_Mercurian
Summary: A bundle of brown and blue clumsily met the ground with a thud and Credence couldn't help but stare at the colorful garments and – as the man lifted his head to meet his gaze – the warmest eyes he had ever seen.
Time stood still for a moment as Credence forgot how to breath.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [О кошках, утках, часах и самоубийстве](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500327) by [Greenmusik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenmusik/pseuds/Greenmusik)



It was still dark outside when mother woke them up, the sharp ring of a bell echoing through the house.

Credence opened his eyes, sitting up stiffly and forcing himself to actually get up. It was strange, this kind of ever-lasting tiredness. His body felt heavy and cold and incomplete in a way, as if he missed a limb essential to walking, to _living_.

Deep down, he knew that it was fear that ate away all his strength and his energy, but he decided not to dwell on it for too long. Numbness is what kept him going. Numbness.

 

“Lazy boy,” he could hear his mother mumble as he went down the stairs, fully dressed, black hair combed neatly. Lowering his head even more, he quickened his step to sit with his sisters, afraid to displease his mother so early in the morning.

Breakfast was a quite procedure since no one dared to speak. If they kept their heads bowed and only spoke if mother asked them something, it was quite endurable. Credence didn't have anything to say anyway.

When mother was finished, they got up to wash their dishes, avoiding her piercing gaze. At least, Credence tried his best to not let his gaze meet hers. He had learned over the years that it unnecessarily provoked her.

 

“The leaflets are ready,” she proclaimed and handed them each a stack of paper. “We should get some orphans to help with them.”

 

Ah. The leaflets. His fingers felt cold and stiff as he grabbed his stack, barely looking at the printed words.

 

_New Salem Philanthropic Society_.

 

Mother hated Witchcraft. She didn't know that he was one of these filthy wizards. One of those freaks that she above all wanted to see dead.

_It wouldn't make that much of a difference_ , he thought. _Mother hates me anyway_.

Following his sisters out of the door, he had to force himself to not drag his feet as he walked down the street. People didn't like mother's leaflets. They didn't believe in Witchcraft and didn't know about it's danger. They didn't know that Credence could kill them with it if he really wished to do so. Witchcraft was evil but they did not see. They thought his entire family to be crazy.

 

“That Barebone-Freak, again,” some muttered before he could even approach them.

Others, especially boys his age, openly laughed at him, swatted the leaflets out of his hands and sometimes 'played' with him. Mother hated those days, when he came home with a blood-soaked collar, holding his nose.

Blood, apparently, was very difficult to wash out. It didn't make much sense that she usually made him bleed even more then. He didn't say that, though. He never said anything when mother was angry, it usually made things worse.

 

As he parted ways with his sisters, he felt a slight tingle run down his spine. Staying still for a second, he glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Disappointment settled in his gut.

He had hoped that the nice man with the dark eyes had returned. Percival Graves who had promised to come back sometime soon after he had seen the scars on Credence's hands.

Never had anyone talked to him like that – Gently. Even though, the way that man had let his eyes roam over him had made him feel uncomfortable.

Anything would be better than to continue living with mother.

Anything.

 

Taking a deep breath, he walked down the street, approaching everyone who crossed his path. Though, he was ignored most of the time, he at least got rid of four leaflets when he felt it again.

Something was following him.

 

Gulping, he tried to act as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and forced himself to not run from whatever it was.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an alleyway between two houses and _bolted_. He didn't dare turn around and look, but in the end, he didn't have to. Whatever had been following him, jumped him and he screamed as -

 

As some black ball of fluff stole his pocket watch.

 

“NIFFLER!”

 

He fell like a dead weight against a garbage can and sat there, staring at the cat (?) running away with his pocket watch. Steps echoed in the alleyway, but Credence was too shocked to look at the man running after the furry thief.

Until said man slipped on one of the leaflets, he hadn't even noticed he had let go of.

A bundle of brown and blue clumsily met the ground with a thud and Credence couldn't help but stare at the colorful garments and – as the man lifted his head to meet his gaze – the warmest eyes he had ever seen.

 

Time stood still for a moment as Credence forgot how to breath, completely unable to move. The stranger's expression spoke of surprise, his body half-lying and half-kneeling, pale hand pressed against the dirty wall.

He mouthed a silent “Oh” while his gaze nervously flickered between the leaflets and Credence.  
“Er,” the stranger rasped and then coughed awkwardly as he let go of the wall and immediately tried to shuffle together all the papers. “Did he... er, did he steal something? ...From you?”

 

Credence opened his mouth to answer but the words got stuck in his throat and he simply nodded, pointing at the silver chain on his vest that used to be connected to his pocket watch.

The stranger mumbled something that sounded like “Merlin's pants” and scrambled up to his feet, the leaflets a messy pile in his hands.

“Er...,” he started again, nervously casting a glance over his own shoulder – Surely, he was looking for the stealing cat (???) - while handing him the leaflets. “I- I'm sorry. For that. The watch I mean.” His eyes flickered to the papers Credence awkwardly held, not having moved a bit since the whole ordeal started. “For that, too.”

Credence simply resumed to stare.

 

“I- I have to...”

 

He never did find out what the stranger wanted to say as he suddenly bolted, leaving him sitting in an alleyway, his back pressed against a garbage can.

 

Only then did he remember how to breath and he noticed the warmth that had settled on his cheeks.

 

 

 

Back home, mother punished him for losing the pocket watch, however, he barely noticed the pain as he thought of brown and blue and warm eyes.

 

 


End file.
